Caught Between Them

The morning after was like waking up in a bad dream. My body ached like a kicked puppy, and my head felt like it was stuffed with cotton. I tried to ignore the growing bruise on my shoulder, but it kept reminding me of the rogue rumble.

Brock was nowhere to be found, probably nursing his own battle wounds. But I wasn’t exactly feeling up for a pity party. Instead, I focused on the rogues we’d captured. We’d tied them up good, but they were still a bunch of grumpy, smelly wolves.

“Hey, furballs,” I greeted them, my voice dripping with sarcasm. “How’s the view from the ground?”

They just glared at me, their eyes full of rage. Great, a captive audience with a serious attitude problem.

Logan strolled in, looking like he’d just stepped out of a photoshoot. “Morning, champ,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “You look like you could use a nap.”

I rolled my eyes. “Thanks for the pep talk, Cap. Any idea what to do with these grumpy guests?”

He shrugged. “No clue. Maybe we should ask them if they brought their own snacks.”

We both burst out laughing, the tension of the previous night easing a little. Sometimes, a bit of humor was the best medicine, even when dealing with a bunch of grumpy rogues.This content is © NôvelDrama.Org.

“Seriously though,” Logan said, his tone turning serious. “We need to figure out what they want. Why here? Why now?”

I nodded, the gravity of the situation sinking in. These weren’t just random rogues. There was something more to this, something bigger than we could imagine.

“We need to keep them alive,” I said, “for questioning. Maybe they’ll spill the beans.”

Logan nodded, his eyes glinting with a dangerous light. “Let’s hope so. But if they don’t talk, we’ll have to think of something else.”

A shiver ran down my spine. I didn’t like where that was going. But right now, we had bigger fish to fry. Like, literally. Rogue-sized fish. We stared at the rogue who just stared back at us in hate, probably thinking of ways flay us alive.

The rogue fixed his eyes on me and licked his lips. Behind me Logan growled possessively. Ironic how he still was possessive of me, did I even still consider him as my mate? Friends maybe but mate? No. It had always been Brock, and I was sure if Brock were here he would have slashed the rogue’s throat for looking at me that way.

As if on cue Brock walked in and I sighed inwardly, how could someone look so handsome, so handsome that it made a lady like me feel inferior sometimes. Brock smiled at me then turned to the rogue in chains.

“Now scum, time to talk” he growled.

Logan stood before the lead rogue, his stance firm and his eyes glinting with a dangerous light. The rogue, a hulking brute with a face scarred like a battleground, glared back, his eyes filled with defiance.

“Talk,” Logan demanded, his voice low and menacing. “Tell me why you’re here.”

The rogue sneered, spitting on the ground. “You think I’m going to talk to you, worm?”

Logan’s patience was wearing thin. With a swift movement, he grabbed the rogue by the collar and slammed him against the wall. The impact was loud enough to echo through the room, the rogue’s body crumpling against the hard surface.

But the rogue remained defiant, his eyes filled with a chilling hatred. Logan, unfazed, took a step closer, his face inches away from the rogue’s. “Last chance,” he growled. “Talk.”

The rogue’s eyes flickered for a moment, a flicker of fear mixed with defiance. Then, with a resigned sigh, he opened his mouth. “Fine,” he rasped, his voice rough and hoarse. “We want your land.”

Logan’s grip tightened, but he didn’t say anything, his eyes demanding more.

“Our boss, Vincent, wants this territory,” the rogue continued, his voice trembling slightly. “He wants you and your pack gone.”

“And what about you?” Logan pressed, his voice low and dangerous.

“We get paid,” the rogue shrugged, his voice filled with indifference. “Simple as that.”

“And what about her?” Logan asked, gesturing towards me with a nod.

The rogue hesitated for a moment, then his eyes narrowed into a dangerous glint. “She’s a prize,” he said, his voice dripping with contempt. “Vincent wants her for himself.”

A wave of nausea washed over me. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. They wanted our land, and they wanted me.

“And what about the attacks? Why now?” Logan pressed, his voice filled with a growing anger.

The rogue shrugged again. “Orders,” he said simply. “Vincent wants to weaken you before the final strike.”

A chill ran down my spine. This was bigger than just a territorial dispute. It was war, and we were the target.

Logan’s face was a mask of fury. “And what about the others?” he asked, referring to the other rogues we had captured.

“They’re just cannon fodder,” the rogue said with a cruel smile. “Easy to replace.”

Logan’s grip tightened around the rogue’s collar, his knuckles white. For a moment, it seemed like he was going to snap the rogue’s neck. Then, with a sudden movement, he released his hold and stepped back.

“Brock,” he said, his voice low and dangerous. “Take care of this.”

Brock stepped forward, his face a mask of cold fury. With a single, swift motion, he punched the rogue in the face, sending him crashing to the ground. The rogue let out a howl of pain, but Brock didn’t stop there. He knelt down, his eyes locked with the rogue’s, and with a swift movement, he dug his fingers into the rogue’s eyes.

A blood-curdling scream echoed through the room, followed by a deafening silence. The rogue slumped to the ground, his body convulsing.

Logan turned to me, his face pale but determined. “We need to prepare,” he said, his voice low. “This is going to be a fight for our survival.”